Succumb
by gloryblastit
Summary: Dan and Casey. Dan's reaction to the end of Casey's marriage. Fluff. Slash.


Dan was having trouble with a couple of concepts, not the least of which was the impending break up of Casey's marriage.

They were at Anthony's, familiar after work bar, where everything was dark, easy on the eyes, but light glinted off glass bottles, wine glasses, chrome fixtures, the tears in Casey's eyes.

He had known something was wrong with Casey all week, couldn't work with him everyday and not know. But Casey was funny, secretive, maintained that nothing was wrong, nothing at all.

Dan knew better.

"I'll get the beers," Casey said shakily, rising to go to the bar. Dan nodded and watched Casey walk away.

He, Dan, spilled his guts at the most disinterested 'how's it going?', would lay out his hurts and troubles to examine, to organize and classify. Casey, on the other hand, tried so hard to believe nothing was wrong.

Dan looked over at him, Casey was leaning on the bar, one foot up on the gold bar near the floor. The bartender, a muscular woman in a tank top and hair so straight she may have ironed it handed Casey two beers, and he came back to their table.

"Here," He set the beer in front of him, and Dan took it, feeling how cold it was, and wet already from condensation.

"Thanks," He took a healthy swig, and watched Casey's adam's apple bob as he drank his.

"Uh, Case," he started, setting his beer down, looking at Casey's red rimmed eyes, "you want to tell me what's wrong?"

He could hear all the other conversations in the bar but they had blended together, an incomprehensible mash of syllables floating near the ceiling.

"Nothing," Casey didn't look at Dan, he never did when he was lying.

"Casey, c'mon,"

"Nothing," He repeated it, but the word had lost what scant confidence it had had. It was ragged, like the man who said it.

"Casey, do you think I'm stupid? I work with you day in and day out, I know your moods better than my own. I will ask you one more time. What the hell is wrong?"

And Casey sighed, shoulders slumped. A sigh from deep in his chest.

"Okay, Danny, okay. It's Lisa, we're, she's, I mean…" he trailed off, looked away. Dan couldn't help but notice how almost pretty Casey looked, so upset, the contrast of the dark eyes and light hair, his profile. Perfect.

Then he looked back at Dan, bullshit over, pretending that nothing was wrong was over.

"She's divorcing me," Flat, but emotion just under the surface. Casey held everything in.

Dan nodded, drank his beer. They'd seemed, at one time, the perfect couple. And they had Charlie, which linked them, their DNA forever entwined in another, and Dan couldn't believe they were splitting. Couldn't believe he was glad.

Because now he could have Casey, and not have to fight with Lisa for his time and attention, not have to constantly want what someone else had.

Casey's lips were wet from the beer and his compulsive habit of licking them, and his hair brushed across his forehead, and in this dim light looked darker than Dan knew it was.

"Could I come over your place?" Casey said, as though it inconvenienced Dan. As though Dan would say no. There was pleading in his voice and in his eyes. Dan licked his lips, unconsciously mimicking Casey's habit, and nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

They drank enough beers to dull the roar in Dan's head as Casey explained he had been kicked out, and needed a place to stay for awhile. He drank enough beers so that the cigarettes tasted really good, and Casey smoked too because he was upset.

They headed to Dan's, Casey explaining how hurt he was, how he couldn't believe he had failed at this, his marriage. Dan hoped he nodded in all the right places as he looked at Casey's lips and licked his own, as he imagined taking off Casey's clothes, running his hands over the smooth skin, feeling the muscles, the tendons, the bones.

"You got any beer?" Casey said as Dan flicked on the lights in his kitchen. Like Dan, Casey didn't like to let a night go either.

"Yeah, sure," Dan grabbed a couple beers from the fridge, tossed one to Casey. He opened it, leaned back against the counter and drank. Dan looked at Casey's white sneakers, spread apart, the soft denim jeans, his polo shirt. His head tilted at the severe angle as he drank the beer.

He felt like he should say something about Lisa, about his sympathy for Casey's situation. But he was at a loss, unsure how to say it when he'd felt almost deliriously happy that Lisa would be leaving the picture.

He'd never liked Lisa.

"Casey, I," It was a good start, and he set his beer down on the kitchen table, went over to Casey. Took the beer from Casey's hand, set it on the counter.

"Casey, I'm sorry about your marriage," He leaned close to him, close enough to notice his cologne, the smell of the beer and cigarettes, the fabric softener smell that faintly clung to his clothes.

"Danny, what…?" Casey backed up but there was nowhere to back up to.

"I'm sorry, Casey," And he was just pulled to him, kissed him. Casey stiffened but kissed him back. Dan put his hand on the back of Casey's neck, felt him start to relax. He flicked his tongue against Casey's, ran his hands along his shoulders.

"Dan," Casey's voice was husky, his eyes darting away and back, his breath quick gasps.

"Yeah?" Dan said softly, and kissed him again. He watched Casey succumb, slump against the counter, close his eyes. Dan closed his eyes, too.


End file.
